Not Meant this Way (White Roses)
by Lilacshadows
Summary: Things were not supposed to end this way. She should have married and produced an heir. A son to inherit his father's company. Renge had not been supposed to lose her son in a car accident. Longing should have been in Kyoya's eyes. White roses should have been given to their children in person, not placed atop small graves once a year.


I suppose this comes from an overload of sad Christmas themed movies, an abundance of free time, and bachata music. (Have you seen Christmas with Holly and/or Foster . An Angel in the House? Or actually paid attention to some of these song's lyrics?) Originally, I never planned for the story to go in the direction it did. It just sort of escaped me and took on a life of its own. And very nearly reduced me to tears as I typed.

Warning: Possible trigger. Death of a child. Miscarriages. Please don't read if this will upset or hurt you.

Pairing: Renge x Kyoya

No, I do not own Renge Houshakuji, Kyoya Ohtori, nor the Ouran High School Host Club. (My lawyer still has not returned with the ownership papers I requested years ago.)

Feel free to review or pm or critique. Without further ado, here's the story.

…

 **Not Meant this Way (White Roses)**

Things were not supposed to be this way. All her life, Renge had been raised to know that she would one day marry a rich man – a union that would most likely be for the benefit of her father's company than for love – then after a while of married bliss, provide said husband with an heir for his own company and thus cement her own place within his family. Renge was no fool. She had always dreamed of falling in love and riding off into a sunset on horseback with her husband. But somewhere deep down, she had known that that was all it was – a dream. Her Prince Charming did not exist and he would not come and sweep her off her feet. And so, she had lost herself in her games. Lost herself in her Sims whose lives she could control and see them fall in love and marry and life happily ever after. Miyabe became her favorite with his endless declarations of love and attentiveness. She pictured him as her future husband and he was perfect. Miyabe was perfect. He was perfect until she met Kyoya Ohtotri.

Kyoya was nothing like Miyabe. Never had been and most likely never would. Kyoya was not perfect, he did not own a horse and would not sweep her off her feet to ride off into the sunset. Kyoya did not endlessly declare his love for her but that did not mean that he did not love her. Kyoya did love her and showed her rather than reminded. He always knew that she preferred rose over red wine, bought her a single white rose for her birthdays, brought her a bar of the cheapest dark chocolate he could find while on his business trips, carried peppermints in his pockets when they went to galas and formal dinners just like her father did. Kyoya would lay in bed next to her on lazy weekends even though she knew he could have gotten up hours ago to work on some project or another for his over demanding father. He would sit with her on their soft, cream couch and watch movies with her, only getting up to make them popcorn or get them drinks.

That first time, Kyoya had woken to her retching in the bathroom connected to their room. He had calmly held her hair and stroked her back as she vomited into the toilet bowl. He had asked if she was alright and she had watched as his eyes lit up as she explained to him the reason for her illness. She was pregnant, and Kyoya could not have been any happier. He was as attentive as he had ever been in private and only became more attentive in public. Kyoya would never complain on the nights she sent him out to go buy her some strange combination of foods. He would calmly get up and often times take her with him and they would sit in the park or on their small home's porch and eat whatever it was she had been craving. They would sometimes go to the park, walking hand in hand, watching the families enjoying days out and children playing, smiling, laughing. Other times, they would have picnics and they would sit on a soft, blue blanket while eating the foods she was slowly learning to make from their cook. Once, they had lain in bed, one of those lazy Saturdays that she knew he would have to work later, and talked about their soon to be born son and the children that would follow after. Kyoya confessed his uncertainty about having several children because of the competition his own father had pitted against his sons. Kyoya did not want that for his children and told her as such. Renge assured him that he would be an excellent father and both were soon distracted by feeling their son move around inside of her.

It had happened a month before their son was due to be born. They had already picked out a name, the nursey had long since been ready, the overnight bag packed and waiting for them by the front door. Renge had been coming back from an appointment. Her doctor had greeted her with a smile and once the examination was over had told Renge that everything was going fine. Told her not to worry. Kyoya had been at work, having become a doctor at one of his father's clinics. And so she had gone alone, accompanied only by their butler, a man only two years older than Kyoya, named Shigure Moto. She had excitedly shown him the ultrasound picture of her son and he, who had two young children of his own, had smiled and congratulated her once more. He had helped her into the sleek black car and asked where to take her. She, wanting to show her husband the latest ultrasound picture of their son, had asked him to take her the clinic where Kyoya worked.

They were a block from the clinic when it happened. One second, Renge was happily chatting to Shigure and the next, there was a screeching sound and darkness. She woke put three days later, Kyoya asleep in a chair by her side, a flat stomach, a bouquet of white roses in a vase on the bedside table, and a nurse who jumped when she walked in to see Renge attempting to sit up. The nurse looked uncomfortable and stammered through answering Renge's questions. But there was one she would not answer nor look her in the eyes for. And Renge's voice quickly rose and Kyoya woke up. She repeated her questions to him, pleading him to tell her where their son was. She needed to see their son, why could she not see him? All the nurse had to do was tell her that he was okay. Please, she had to see him. But Kyoya didn't say anything. His silver eyes filled with tears and he pulled her into a desperate embrace as he and the nurse explained what had happened. Explained to her that she had lost her son in a car accident.

Everyone had left, no one wanting to stay in such a depressing place for long. The small funeral service for the child she had never met had just ended and Renge found herself standing in front of the small casket, watching as Kyoya himself lowered it into the ground. Tears filled her honey eyes and Renge looked away momentarily. She turned back after a while, unwilling or unable to remove her gaze from where her child would now lay. She attempted a smile at the small headstone they had commissioned. It was a simple rectangular stone with her son's name and the words "An angel we wished to have met" engraved in block letters. Cement her place indeed. She scoffed. Kyoya turned. He asked her if everything was alright, grey eyes digging into her very being. She nodded before busting into tears and Kyoya rushed over to her side and held her to him. Held her as if she was the only thing keeping her from drowning, as if she was the only one left in the world – Kyoya held her like a desperate man.

Nine years had come and gone. Nine years that should have been spent with the laughter of children. Nine years that should have been chronicled in photographs full of smiling children. A raven haired boy with honey colored eyes, celebrating his ninth birthday in a month. Six year old twins – both girls. They would have had her height – or rather lack of – and honey colored hair. Another child, one who despite never learning the sex, was surely another girl. A four year old raven haired girl with big grey eyes just like her father. A daughter, who Kyoya claimed, would have inherited her temperament and his intelligence. Their children would have all been born to be loved, born to be coddled and hugged at all possible moments. But with the latest miscarriage, Renge had given up on having children all together. They would never have a child, not one who had been born from them. Perhaps, in time, once all the hurt had diminished in strength – it would never vanish – they could adopt a child. One who would smile and laugh and love and be loved. A child who would not replace their other children but would have his or her own place in their hearts, a child who would fill the void their other children had left in their lives. Their other children would not be forgotten, could never be forgotten, but perhaps another child would bring the light into their lives their four other children would have brought with them. Perhaps.

She placed the white rose on the small grave. Her eldest son had died nine years to the day. Kyoya stood a few steps behind her, lost in his own thoughts. Renge closed her eyes, thinking of the conversation she had overheard a week before. She had been looking for Kyoya, wanting to ask if he had requested the day off from his father yet. Instead, she had very nearly walked in on her husband and father-in-law discussing her.

 _"I'm taking a personal day at the end of this month. I thought it best if you were informed," her husband said as he poured his father and himself a glass of wine. He handed the one in his right hand to his father before drinking from the one in his left._

 _"Your wife," Yoshido began. "Have you considered divorcing her?"_

 _"No, I have not." Renge saw the way Kyoya's hand tightened around the stem of the glass he held. "And I do not see why you would suggest such a thing. Nor do I see why it is of any importance to you Father."_

 _"You need an heir," came the cold reply. "So far, your wife has failed to provide that. It will not do for you to not have an heir if I ever decide to hand the company to you."_

It was true. Kyoya would need an heir. That had been drilled into her head since childhood. She would be married to a rich man, she would provide him a son, her place within his family would be cemented after her son's birth. But she had been unable to bear any children. There would be no heirs for Kyoya Ohtori, at least not any born from her. Things were not supposed to be like this. Kyoya deserved a child. He deserved to be a father. The longing in his eyes when he saw his brothers and friends with their own children could neither be imagined nor denied. Who was she to take that away from him? Kyoya would never ask her for a divorce. He would never but had and he had denied her request. He had held her as she struggled and yelled for him to let go, to let her go. Their marriage had failed long ago. It could not be fixed. And he had only held on the tighter. Unwilling, unable to let her go. He told her he loved her. Said that he did not blame her. Could never blame her. The drunken man had been at fault nine years ago. It was that man's fault that Shigure and their son had died. Not hers. Never hers. He loved her. He did not want to let her go.

"Isn't she beautiful mon ami?" Tamaki asked as he placed his newborn daughter into Kyoya's arms. "Her name is Marie after my grand-mere on my mere's side. She looks so much like Haruhi doesn't she?"

Sweet, stupid Tamaki. He didn't mean to hurt them, he only wanted to show off his third child to his best friend. How was he to know that that was the name they had given their daughter six years before? Hurt flashed across Kyoya's face before he could control his emotions.

"Yes," he answered. "Marie is a lovely name. Thank goodness she looks more like Haruhi than she does you. I would fear for the child's wellbeing if she had been cursed with your looks."

"Hey!" The entire group had erupted in laughter then. No one noticing that Kyoya and Renge's laughter had been forced. That their smiles did not quite reach their eyes. Hikaru and Kaoru had begun to tease Tamaki then and she and Huni had asked Haruhi how she was feeling. Renge attempting to feign interest in the conversation while her husband stood holding Marie Suoh and speaking quietly with Mori.

Sleep did not come easily for either of them that night. Nor the night after. Nor the night after that. Finally, after a week, as they lay in bed, Renge broke the silence.

"He named her Marie," she whispered, half hoping that Kyoya did not hear her.

"Marie." She felt Kyoya move closer to where she lay on her side facing away from him. He wrapped an arm around her small form. "Marie Ohtori. She would have had your hair."

"And her sister?" she whispered, still not facing him.

"Mai would have been identical to her sister. Same honey colored eyes and hair. Both girls would have been short, just like their mother."

"Grey. They would have had your eye color." She turned to face her husband and looked into his molten silver eyes.

"Grey," he nodded. "And Eri? What color would her eyes have been?"

"Grey eyes and black hair, just like you," she answered through the tears beginning to cloud her vision, not surprised to see tears in Kyoya's eyes as well.

"Hiroshi had black hair," Kyoya finally cut through the silence. "And his eyes were the same as yours."

"Honey," she answered, voice still hushed, not wanting to speak louder for fear of breaking something. "Call it honey."

"Honey."

They never did adopt a child.

They never tried.

Their life, while not filled with the laughter of children, was still a happy one. They went out. Kyoya took her to galas and theaters and walks in the park. They still had picnics. He still held her small hand in his whenever they went out. He still proudly showed her off at all the events they attended together. He still went on business trips and returned with samples of the cheapest chocolates he could find. He still bought her a single white rose for her birthdays. Still carried mints in his pockets. He was still the same imperfect Kyoya she had fallen in love with years ago.

Things had not been supposed to end the way they had. But Renge would not change a thing. She was happy. They were happy. They coped. Together. They were still together.

Kyoya's grip on her hand tightened as they neared their son's grave. She placed the white rose on the gravestone. "Happy birthday Hiroshi," she murmured.

Kyoya's grip on her hand was almost painful. "You would have graduated this year. Top marks, I'm sure."

"And then you would have been off to college. We would have been proud and heartbroken at the same time. Our little boy, off to a university to study law. This family has too many doctors in it anyway."

"I'd be proud."

"We both would."

No, things had not been meant to end this way.

Her son should not have lost his life to a drunk driver. His life should not have been cut short before it even began. She should have held her children. Watched them grow from helpless infants into confident young adults. Hiroshi, tall and handsome. Marie and Mai, petite and lovely. Eri, raven haired and grey eyed.

The white roses should have been given to them in person, not placed upon small graves.


End file.
